


Early Mornings

by FunWhileItLasts



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Abolition of Slavery, Allusions to CSA, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Three Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:01:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunWhileItLasts/pseuds/FunWhileItLasts
Summary: Laurent wakes up from a nightmare. Damen is there to comfort him.





	Early Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Short writing practise cus I havent written anything in ages. Lemme know what you think, good or bad :)

Laurent awoke with a jolt. An impending sense of urgency shocked him like a bucket of water had been thrown at his head. Bolting upright, he barely had time to take in his surrounding before he flung himself from the bed. 

He fell to his hands and knees.

A blink.

Warmth washed over his back as the sunlight streaking in from the balcony windows touched his bare skin. 

A blink.

He pushed himself to sit on his knees. He raised his head, and squinted at the sunlight. Blurs in his vision were the only markers of movement. Shadows crossed his path, closer they lurked.

Laurent pushed himself to standing, his movement jerking his spine. Pain shot through him. His vision tilted. He was staring at the ceiling.

Shadows became clearer. Outlines and shades grew more in focus.

He pushed himself back on the bed, away from the movement.

A person. Someone was with him. 

He twisted, crawling off the bed. He backed to a column of beige; smooth to touch, he recognised the feeling. 

Marble.

Not stone.

Not Vere.

But Akielos. 

He was in Akielos, he realised. 

He took a breath, another blink, another moment.

His swimming vision cleared.

Thoughts floated to the front of his mind as if surfacing from the deep sea; the sea that he could hear crashing against the white cliffs.

Damen peered at him from across their room. Eyes wide with uncertainty, he stretched out a hand.

Laurent gazed at it, assessing it.

Damen wouldn’t hurt him. 

He held out his hand.

As if trekking across a frozen river, with trepidation and acceptance of the stupidity of his actions, Damen took a step across the room. Towards Laurent.

He couldn’t hold back a flinch.

Damen retreated.

“Laurent,” Damen said so softly. It twisted something in Laurent’s chest, something he knew he recognised on his good days. It was something foreign to him now.

“Laurent, you’re safe.” 

A statement. Damen’s view. 

Laurent’s argumentative nature jumped at the chance to prove Damen wrong. It pushed him to note the strength in Damen’s chest, which would make it so easy to hold Laurent down. It told him to stare at the tossed sheets of the bed, which would twist around his wrist like feathered manacles. They would wrap around his neck like rope, pulling at him or holding him. He felt it, that fine pressure against his windpipe.

He gasped for breath. Nothing came in.

“Damen,” he croaked, his hand shaking in the air. He stretched; he needed Damen.

A gasp.

He was losing his thoughts again, feeling his eyes flit of their own accord. They looked from the deep brown of Damen’s eyes to the bed. Confusion muddled his brain.

Damen was safe and sleeping was not safe. Truth and facts.

Damen took a step towards Laurent.

He shuddered, his chest falling in on itself.

“Damen.” Barely more than a whisper, but it set Damen going.

He crossed the room with the swiftness of a hunter, with the softness of a dancer.

He clasped Laurent’s hand and he drew a breath.

“Laurent.” Damen’s voice was murky. 

“Laurent, breath with me.”

Laurent watched as Damen’s chest expanded, forced his own to do the same. It expanded and he choked on air.

When Damen let out a breath, Laurent let out a shudder.

“Again,” Damen ordered, his voice sweet like honey.

Laurent choked and shuddered, choked and shuddered. His thoughts came slowly, fighting to wade through his watery mind. 

In, out, he choked and shuddered. Until he was gasping and sighing. Until he was gulping and exhaling. Breathing, deeply.

Tears fell from his nose onto clasped hands. They tracked a path down pale and dark skin alike.

“I-I…” Laurent choked. 

Damen took a step back, stretching his arm to remain holding Laurent’s hands. The space felt safe, and so cold.

“I forgot where I was.” Laurent breathed. Barely more than a whisper, but Damen’s expression shouted a million things.

Laurent read rage in Damen’s tense jaw, sadness in his soft eyes, and helplessness in the way he pulled Laurent against his chest.

“You’re home,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s mussed hair. “You’re home and safe in Ios.” 

Laurent breathed deep. 

“It is dawn. Today we have two meetings. You have plans to go riding.” Damen listed. “We’re here for two more weeks. We will return to Marlas Palace.” Laurent felt Damen smile against him. “Our palace.”

Laurent rested his forehead on Damen’s chest, letting his rumbling voice soothe the ache in his chest.

He allowed himself an inhale, an exhale and he moved away.

He slid from Damen’s arms, crossing over to the balcony.

The sun was rising, setting the marble columns shining.

The crystal table set outside, gifted on their wedding day, blinded him. Beams of light shot from the surface and hit the ceiling. 

Laurent blinked. 

He turned to Damen and managed a smile.

“We had to get up now anyway.”

Laurent walked away from the balcony. He picked up a tunic and covered himself.

“We have another three hours until our meeting,” Damen pointed out. He had yet to move, watching Laurent from his place by the column. “You can talk to me, my love.” 

Laurent turned to face the bed, picking at his tunic. His hands shook too much to thread the laces.

“There is nothing to talk about, Damen.” Laurent impressed even himself with the steadiness of his voice. “It was a dream, nothing more.”

Damen took a breath. Laurent stopped his fumbling only to tense at the pause Damen gave. 

“You’re having these dreams more frequently as of late.”

“I haven’t noticed.”

“Laurent,” Damen’s voice shook, “If something is wrong, please tell me. We can fix it, like we always do.”

So uplifting, so hopefully.

Laurent knew, just a few years ago he would’ve felt a vicious happiness in bringing that joy down.  
He could tell Damen that he can’t be fixed, that he married a man with a broken mind. He could tell Damen what he had dreamt, that his memories turned to nightmares when the candles had been blown out. Vicious men caused vicious thoughts. 

That violence exhausted him. 

He turned, and sat on the bed.

Their eyes met and what Laurent saw there, took his breath away. For the feeling softening his chest, quelling those old, malicious thoughts, the universe could keep his breath.

“The meeting today,” Laurent began… and stopped. He saw realisation flicker in Damen’s eyes. “The Council oppose the laws. We know this.”

Saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Working with people who opposed the improvements Laurent and Damen planned on making, having to sit by them and listen to their talk of numbers and factors, made Laurent want nothing more than to go back to sleep. 

Such rest was not allowed for him. 

They had started with simple laws: no concubines or slaves under the age of 18, pets get the first and final say on all contracts. A year into their joint rule, and slaves had rights, education, and opinions. Laurent and Damen had fought hard each step of the way. 

Every win reminding Laurent of why he cannot rest, why he had to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

And every time Damen turned his back, Laurent was given multiple reasons to fight harder. 

“We have the majority,” Damen said. “It’ll go through.”

Laurent looked away. The majority wasn’t a unanimous decision. There were still councillors who supported slavery, the subjugation of children and innocents. All the effort put into causing this cultural shift, and it wasn’t enough. 

“All that matters now is getting this law passed.” Damen spoke confidently. “Once we’ve done that, we can prosecute the councillors who voted against us when they continue to practise.”

“And how many slaves will be abused before we find sufficient evidence to find them guilty?” Laurent asked. “How many people will be taken advantage of before we can take action?”

“I know it’s frustrating, my love.” Damen walked closer, sitting down on the bed next to Laurent. Not touching him, just close to him. “But if we take action now we will lose everything. The stability we’ve brought will be undermined if we don’t abide by our own rules.”

It made sense. Laurent couldn’t deny it. That doesn’t mean he liked it.

He lent forward with a sigh. His head in his hands, he spoke slowly.

“We could set them up.”

An idea manifested in his mind. A willing servant, aware of the risks and fully compensated, placed in temptations way. A councillor, too wine-happy to register being lured to a place ripe for witnesses. Well-placed guards, a few screams, and the old men would be found guilty in no time.

Laurent could sense Damen’s eyes on him. 

“I know it’s risky, but is it not better than waiting for an already abused servant to come forward? The chances of stopping them when we are unaware is slim. We cannot watch everyone.”

“And what happens if we can’t intercede in time?” Damen said, the irritating voice of reason. 

Places sprung to Laurent’s mind where he could place guards, tell servants to lead them, situations in which to get them inebriated. 

“We’re more likely to intercede in time if we plan.” 

Damen eyes had shuttered to his plan, Laurent saw. They were hard.

“We make example of them, deter others from testing our laws.”

The hardness in Damen’s eyes softened at his words. Laurent looked away. 

Damen placed an arm round his shoulders lightly, pulling him towards his chest.

“We cannot rule like that, Laurent. I know-” He started softly, “I don’t understand how you feel, but I know you must feel this,” Damen sighed, “Sharply. But we cannot set our people up to fail. Yes, some of these men are rotten, but we must allow those who are not to change their path. Setting them up robs them of redemption.”

Laurent closed his eyes, breathing heavily in Damen’s embrace.

“I cannot stop thinking about it,” he breathed shakily. All strength of conviction dissipated with Damen’s sensibility. 

“It will get better.”

“You can’t promise that,” Laurent pointed out, “Men are men no matter the laws.”

“And we will find and punish those men, that I can promise. But other men, men like us, we cannot lead them honestly if we have such actions on our conscious.”

Laurent nodded. He knew it to be true.

A sigh.

“Three hours until our next meeting,” He said, “Time to go back to sleep.”

“More like two and a half.” Damen placed a gentle kiss in his hair, peeling the shirt off Laurent’s back. He stood and placed in on the clothes dresser. “I’ll wake you in two, my love.”

Laurent nodded. He shuffled onto the bed, tucking himself under the covers. Damen came and reclined by his side. He slid a hand under Laurent’s neck, curling the smaller body into his.

The rush and emotion brought on by the morning’s vulnerability brushed of Laurent like sand against rocks. Once, he knew, he would have berated himself for voicing his thoughts just to get shot down with logic. Now, he closed his eyes and cuddled into the warmth of his husband.


End file.
